Handicap Advantage
by MystryGAB
Summary: One-shot follow-up to 'Handicap Accessible'.


_This is a follow-up to the one shot Handicap Accessible. It is loosely based on a prompt and is dedicated to a very special lady. _

_This is for you, Meg._

_Hope you enjoy! Thanks for the reviews._

_Disclaimer: Not connected with Shore or any of the lost buddies of delusion._

**Handicap Advantage**

"He's a moron!"

House tossed the brochure onto the table and reached for the complimentary fruit basket to begin removing the plastic wrapping.

"He's a very respected moron," Cuddy replied.

"For what? Telling people they 'think' better outside the lab environment? Brilliant!"

"Macro cognition is a valid field of study as applied to diagnostics," she argued.

"And you would know since your last DDX was on your sex life."

Cuddy rolled her eyes as she reached around him to grab an apple from the basket. "I 'think' to improve mine, you 'pay' just to have one," she said.

House looked down at her arm as it grazed his. "You're suggesting I shouldn't compensate medical trial participants?"

"Medical trial participants? Hookers?" She asked in amusement, biting into the fruit as she plopped down on the couch. "What? Are you testing a new erectile dysfunction drug?"

"I can hold an erection for 8 hours with no danger of stroke," he said, pushing his chest out arrogantly. "Want to test me?"

"Did you forget to take your antipsychotic meds?" She asked, turning away from him. "Because you're clearly delusional."

"Resistance is futile," House said in all seriousness.

Cuddy shook her head in amusement. "Has the Borg prepared to present his paper tomorrow?"

"When you finally interface with me, you will know." He spoke in a monotone as he stared blankly at her like one of the drones from the Star Trek series.

Her eyes ran over his face, pausing at his lips before making a slow perusal of his body.

"Too bad you're talking assimilation," she teased. "Copulation is so much more fun."

"My script is easily adaptable." His expression quickly turned from playful to hopeful.

Cuddy laughed. House had a way of arrogantly puffing out his chest, ready to prove his superiority, while at the same time appearing like an awkward teenager, shy with nervous enthusiasm at the hope of a glimpse at a naked woman for the first time. It was the dichotomy of him that was both frustrating and appealing. It was also an emotional roadblock. Where a part of him was confident and sure, ready to fight and conquer, the other part was afraid and self-loathing, hiding behind pretense and complex games. Ironically, this simultaneous allure and repel in his nature made him all the more interesting to her.

House smiled at her. He liked to hear her laugh. It was one of the many things he'd found himself enjoying about her lately. And he did enjoy her. It was why he hadn't fought harder when she'd demanded he participate in this ridiculous Diagnostic Error in Medicine Conference. He didn't care that the topic might be relevant, or that it was being held in historic Savannah, Georgia where the romance of the old south was still alive. The only thing he cared about was that she'd booked a suite for them to share. For that, he would not only stop fighting, but participate.

"They're having an ice breaker tonight," she suddenly said.

"They've met you have they?" He came to sit beside her. "The ice queen of Princeton Plainsboro."

"It's a mixer."

"I am so NOT there." His sarcastic excitement was predictable.

"Suit yourself," she said, standing and heading for her room. "I'm going."

House frowned as he watched her leave.

"You're not going to nag me about networking and my responsibilities as a doctor?"

"Nope," she said and closed the door behind her.

House was puzzled. She'd been acting the same and yet very different for weeks. Ever since he'd lost his team – well, lost was a rather loose term to describe the systematic breakdown he'd both intentionally initiated and inadvertently caused – she'd tossed him a few cases and consults, which he'd ignored, but she hadn't really done anything to push him. He'd been coasting, and she'd allowed it. In fact she seemed to be giving him a much wider girth. She was still there watching and directing, the commanding presence to guard the boundaries, but there was a peace about her now. No, not even a peace; she was too miserable, controlling and guilt-laden to ever truly have peace. (He found himself smiling at that. There was a strange comfort in knowing she was as screwed up as him.) It wasn't peace; it was calm. There was definitely a calm about her.

It had started after they returned from Singapore. They'd been dancing around each other since the flight, or rather what had happened on the flight.

The idiot who went scuba diving and boarded the plane too soon had come down with the bends and started a meningococcal scare on the flight back to the states. It had been mass hysteria, and Cuddy had been a part of it. She'd been convinced she was sick and had also come down with the symptoms. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been concerned for a moment. Okay, maybe longer than a moment. Still, in the end he had not only proven there was not an epidemic on board, but had solved the case. It was during this flight everything and nothing had changed between them.

_Who knew an orgasm would do so much?_

House felt that familiar stirring in his groin as he remembered that orgasm. He could still remember the way she'd returned his kiss when he'd pulled her into the crew quarters, the way she'd responded to his touch and writhed against him. How many nights had he lain awake reliving the way she'd looked as he'd pushed her over the edge with his tongue? Even now he could see her lying naked before him, a 3D image on the screen of his mind.

He'd given her a challenge that day. He'd asked her for more, for total access to her as a woman, and not just physically. He was beginning to think he'd been too vague, that she'd not taken the hint. Or even worse, maybe she didn't want more. Maybe that was his only chance to have her, but he'd been weakened by a moment of useless hope and nobility, and let it slip through his fingers. He'd been trying to ensure she understood and regain equilibrium, but what did a man have to do to get her to move?

The week after they'd returned, he'd started jerking Wilson around with the dual intent of to nudge Cuddy along. When he'd solved his case, he'd thought she may have detected where he stood. For a minute there on the balcony when she was discussing her thoughts on October/October relationships, he thought she was sending him a message. Then she'd said no when he'd asked her to the play.

Of course, Wilson had played his game well. It had almost been a disaster when he'd not only gone on one, but two dates with Cuddy. His friend had gotten him that time. For a few seconds in the cafeteria, he'd actually been afraid that Wilson had slept with her, that he'd pushed her away instead of bringing her near. House shook his head and grinned, remembering the week of games between him a Wilson. Good times!

"You've got a problem, House," Wilson had said. Yes, he did. Her name was Lisa Cuddy.

"I guess I'll see you later," Cuddy said from behind him, startling him from his reverie.

House turned to look at her and almost choked on his tongue. She was stunning. That black dress was like a second skin. It was sleeveless and cut just above her knees, revealing quite a bit of skin and yet nowhere near enough. The rolodex in his mind began to flip with images of her naked, of her stretched out before him, reaching out to him.

"You okay," she said, frowning at him.

"Yeah." He forced himself to recover. "Just wondering if mixer is code for brothel."

She rolled her eyes. She knew he liked the way she looked; she hadn't missed his reaction. "It's a riverboat cruise," she said. "And you're an idiot."

Cuddy dropped her room key in her clutch and turned to leave. He was so determined to hide behind those fortress walls, to ignore what was between them. "Have fun brooding," she called to him from the door.

"Don't take anything less than a grand!"

What the hell was he doing? He wanted her to take him serious, to give them a chance, and he'd just implied she was a hooker. Oh, he knew she enjoyed their sparing and games, but how were they ever going to take any steps forward if he kept pulling them back? Why couldn't he just tell her she looked beautiful? She was right. He was an idiot.

"Have fun brooding." As if brooding was fun. You'd think it was as much as he did it. You'd think a lot of things were fun by the way he behaved; by the way he seemed to easily elicit pain. Foreman certainly thought he enjoyed it.

House still couldn't believe he'd resigned. And for such a stupid reason! Foreman didn't want to turn into him. As if he was such a horrible person. He saved lives for God's sake. He had to step on toes and break the rules to do it sometimes, but didn't the ends justify the means? His patients certainly thought so. Well, some of them. The others sued him and the hospital. It was an ongoing battle: his alleged immoral and unethical behaviors vs. lifesaving results. He'd come to terms with living in that particular grey area many years ago. It didn't seem to be so easy with the fellows and medical specialists around him. Except for Cuddy.

She questioned and argued, she attacked his decisions all the time, and yet she had a budget set aside for his legal needs. She didn't fire him. In fact, she was always the first to defend him and justify his importance to the hospital. She considered him a great asset and didn't hesitate to declare it. Moreover, she challenged him to set boundaries. He needed those. He'd never admit it, but they both knew it was true. It was why he'd been fired so often. It was why he'd been kicked out of two med schools. He needed someone to give him enough room to roam yet help him work within the rules and regulations without feeling fenced and stifled. Cuddy was good at this. She was good at a lot of things.

House thought about the way she'd looked when she'd left. He knew she'd registered them for this conference to give him a change of scenery that would perhaps motivate him and help him regain some perspective. He wasn't depressed. Ironically, he didn't feel sad at all that he was suddenly without a team. He just felt a little lost. Or was it restless? That was more likely. And a restless House was a dangerous House, which Cuddy understood more than anyone. So she'd given him something to do by forcing this conference on him. And since they were here, she wasn't going to miss the opportunity to grease the hospitals palm. She knew how to network.

She also knew how to drive him nuts. A part of him had hoped this conference was her way of removing the restraints the demands of the hospital and their corresponding roles imposed, so she could be alone with him again. Then he'd found she'd booked a two bedroom suite. She wasn't planning a move, or planning a seduction. There wouldn't be naked nights of passion. No, he'd realized immediately she was just controlling the environment, keeping him in check.

And yet tonight she'd gone off without him, left him alone to his own devices. That wasn't managing him very well. He could go out, get drunk and be too hung-over to make it to the lecture tomorrow! He could completely screw up this opportunity.

House sat up straighter, a sudden thought making its way into his brain. Cuddy was smart, and she'd been managing him for a long time. She wouldn't make such an obvious blunder. That meant this was a game. She'd set this up so she could be close to him, but not to control him. She'd set-up the perfect playing field and he was standing on the sidelines!

Shit! Had he just forfeited the game by not going with her?

He jumped up from the sofa and rushed to his room. He needed to get changed and meet her on that riverboat.

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

"You look like you need this more than me."

House looked up at her, so startled he barely noticed the drink she was offering him.

He'd been sitting on the park bench for the past half hour staring out over the river, weighing his options. He'd missed the boat, literally and figuratively. He'd arrived just as it was pulling away from the dock and had been trying to decide whether to wait for her or go back to the hotel. Neither option seemed a good one.

"You're missing the mixer," he said, taking the cup from her hand, feigning nonchalance. He probably looked pathetic, sitting here feeling sorry for himself. "You miss the boat? Or miss me?"

"This overbearing arrogance of yours is so attractive."

"It keeps you coming back for more," he pointed out.

"Langford was onboard," she explained, her expression transforming from smug to disgust. Langford was a surgeon from New York who thought he was God's gift to women. From the moment he'd met her, he'd elected Cuddy the lucky recipient of his charm.

House eyed her as she sat beside him on the bench, a little closer than necessary he noticed. He liked that she felt so comfortable with him.

"If you're not in the mood for inappropriate remarks and crude suggestions, you chose the wrong bench," House said, and took a swallow of the drink, almost choking as it went down. "What the hell is this?"

"It's an Attitude Improvement from Wet Willie's," she laughed. "Appropriate, huh?"

"It's a girlie drink!"

"It's a mix of their three strongest rum and vodka drinks," she argued. "And, it's strong enough to put hair on your chest."

He glanced down at her cleavage. "Good thing you gave it to me then," he said. "Your breasts are perfect."

She had mastered the tolerant amused grin. Too bad she didn't seem to notice it turned him on more than turned him away. Yet, as she looked out over the river, he could help but notice the knowing look on her face, the one that said she knew she had the upper hand, but was strategically guarding the proof for a later time.

"You changed your mind," she said.

It wasn't a question. She was pointing out the obvious, cornering him.

"I thought I'd try something new," he clarified. "Brooding with pigeons."

She chuckled and took the drink from him, shaking her head at his silly explanation. He watched as she took a sip from the straw, immediately processing the intimacy of them sharing the drink. But he was quickly distracted. Her lips were moving on the straw. Not just moving, but seducing. She wasn't only sucking on the thin plastic. She was pulling it in and out of her mouth, drawing hard then releasing it with a quick flick of her tongue. House choked on his own saliva.

Cuddy turned to look at him, eyes wide…and laughing.

"Shit!" He exclaimed, shaking his head. She giggled.

The wench was torturing him.

"Come on," she said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow. "I have a taste for nuts."

He quirked a brow. "Mine?"

"Riverstreet Sweets," she answered. "You should try their fudge."

"Why? Is it an aphrodisiac?"

"You can only hope," she winked and walked ahead of him. He grinned as he noticed the extra sway in her hips as she walked away. This night was looking better by the minute.

And that's how they teased for the next couple of hours as they explored the historic district along Savannah's Riverstreet. He watched her as she tried on jewelry and laughed at t-shirts with bad southern idioms; she watched him as he perused classic albums in a vintage music store and checked out the hand carved walking canes. They'd talked rather philosophically about art as they meandered through the arcade gallery, and had blatantly mocked several street performers along the cobblestone path. They were having fun and as the evening progressed, House became convinced this was why Cuddy had ditched the mixer. He was right on the money; she was responding to his challenge. He was fascinated and curious. How would she build the bridge?

When Cuddy pulled him into another shop, House let out a miserable sigh.

"Really?" he said. "Do we have to go into every one of these ridiculous stores? If you've tasted one Georgia preserve you've tasted too many."

"Oh, shut up," she teased, turning to offer him a wafer dipped in yet another concoction. "Try this one."

He could smell her over the obnoxious potpourri and fragrances. Coconut and citrus, a scent forever burned into his memory; olfactory stimulants, the first level of offense, playing point guard to his libido. He breathed her in and automatically bit down on the cracker she was feeding him. Her finger lingered on his lip, lightly moving along the pulp of his lower lip. House was hypnotized. He pushed his tongue forward to taste her finger, to feel the…heat…spicy heat…burning heat.

Cuddy started laughing as his eyes grew wide and he grabbed the bottle of water she'd purchased during their walk.

"What the hell was that?" He gasped, after taking several large gulps.

"Spicy Habanera Peach Chutney." She was already biting into another sample and moaning with pleasure. He watched the unaffected way she licked her fingers and almost groaned.

"You're mean," he said.

"Because I had you eat something hot?" She was teasing him mercilessly.

His slow grin was salacious as his eyes roved down her body. "Yeah, that's why."

She chuckled and turned away, continuing to smell and sample almost everything in the store. He would have been bored to death if he hadn't been so mesmerized by her carnal, downright obscene responses. He found himself cataloguing the products that brought such sensual responses, filing them away in his memory for future reference.

By the time they reached the Savannah Bee Company, he was experiencing the dawn of an erection and the irritation of delayed gratification. Cuddy appeared unmoved. She was engrossed in a conversation with the sales woman surrounding regional bees and pollination trends; House was trying not to think about his desire to pollinate. Oh the irony!

He walked along the honey counter, reading through the descriptions of the various honey flavors, when he noticed little paper spoons for sampling.

"These flavors come from regional trees and wildflowers,"Cuddy said from behind him.

"So I've read." He had dipped a spoon into a jar and scooped out the sweet gel.

Cuddy was stunned when he turned to place it against her lips, entranced by the intensity in his eyes as he watched the movement of her lips and tongue.

"Open," he instructed.

His voice was soft and thick, a sensual accompaniment to the slow moving river of amber he was pouring onto the tip of her tongue. She could taste the buttery undertones beneath the burst of sweetness, could feel the sticky lava melting in her mouth. She could imagine his tongue dipping into her mouth and…

Cuddy looked away nervously, consciously breaking the spell he was weaving.

"We should go." She hated that her voice came out as a whisper. Surely she should have more control than to melt at the sudden fantasy of House pouring honey all over her body and cleaning it off with his tongue.

"You should try the Orange Blossom Honey," he said. "It's perfect for drizzling over melons."

Her eyes jerked up to meet his, catching the sparkle of intent in his eyes. It was amazing how quickly her body responded to him with only a well-timed double entendre.

"Or strawberries and figs," he added innocently. "There are so many ways to enjoy nectar."

_Oh, no he didn't! _

House didn't waver. He continued to watch her, his expression innocent, while the lust in his eyes was downright dirty.

Cuddy smiled wide. He was flirting with her! And not with backwards compliments buried beneath crude one-liners. There was nothing crass or bullish, nothing awkward about it at all. He was smooth and sexy; his power and prowess contained, yet vibrant. In that moment, Cuddy felt something had shifted between them; a door had been opened that gave her hope.

Since he'd issued that challenge on the flight back from Singapore, she'd been strategic in her moves and reactions to him. But recently she'd been growing weary, wondering if she'd made the right decision. Looking at him now, she thought the direction she'd chosen had been the right one after all.

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

"Come in," he called from his bed, answering the soft tap on the bedroom door.

Cuddy peeped her head in the door.

"Is your WiFi connection working?" She quickly noted he wore his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt as he lay on the bed, propped against the headboard.

He looked at her over the rims of his reading glasses, noting the white robe she was wearing, courtesy of the resort. "I have no idea," he answered.

"Do you mind if I check? Mines not working," she said.

"Go ahead," he nodded toward his computer bag on the desk along the opposite wall.

He watched her remove the laptop from the bag and power it up, wondering what was going on with her. This thing between them had become the ultimate puzzle. For so many years they'd been dancing around the attraction between them. When they weren't ignoring it, they were using it for advantage. They both seemed to acknowledge its existence, but attempted to minimize its power. She would advance only so far and then retreat; he'd only take so much of a risk, expose only so much, and then he'd retreat. They'd become frustrated and angry, the tension would build and they'd draw near again, only to retreat. It was starting to feel more like a boxing match than a dance, and it was getting old.

He'd made it clear on that flight home from the Singapore conference that he wanted her more than just physically. He wanted to be with her. She needed to decide if she wanted to be with him. After all, he knew he was no catch for a woman like her. She'd have to make a lot of concessions, more than she should be expected to make. It was something she'd have to consider, a choice she alone would have to make.

He thought she had. First when she'd made arrangements for the conference, then again as they walked along Riverstreet earlier. He'd thought they were having fun, connecting on a personal level. They had been like two people in a relationship that went beyond antagonism, a shared history and a common workplace. There had been a moment in the honey store when something had clicked in her thoughts, and he'd actually thought she was going to break down that wall of impossibility to give him a chance.

Then they'd returned to their suite and she'd retreated to her room as if it was just another day, as if they'd shared nothing special. He should have just taken her on that plane and not pushed for something he knew was impossible. At least he would have another memory of her. And he wouldn't have been walking around with a semi for the past few weeks!

"Are you working on your presentation?" She asked.

"What presentation?"

She looked over her shoulder at him with a mixture of suspicion and fear.

"Was I supposed to prepare something to say," he said. "I was planning a more improvisational approach."

Cuddy frowned and turned to fully face him.

"I know you don't want to be here," she said. "But please tell me you are taking this serious. This is a real opportunity to advance the hospital AND your Diagnostics Department."

When she'd turned, her robe had opened and now gapped in the front. His eyes dropped to take in the plump globe, silently willing the fabric to move a little more.

"I can almost see your nipple."

"You've seen it before," she said. "Tell me you've prepared your paper."

She didn't close the robe he noticed. _Interesting._

"How much preparation do I need to cover the topic of Performing a DDX with a Woody?"

Cuddy dropped her head in defeat, and he laughed.

"I'm kidding. Of course I'm prepared," he said.

She squinted at him, searching for truth.

"I know this is important," he reassured her.

His tone was almost tender, and the sensitivity so often lacking from him was oddly reassuring. She nodded her acceptance and turned back to the laptop.

House squinted and ducked his head as he watched her. Something was wrong. Something felt off between them. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he couldn't ignore that she was nervous. He could see it in the way she played with the tie to her robe as she waited for the computer to go through the start-up routine, the way she was stretching her neck from side to side, the way she was avoiding prolonged eye contact.

"I'm just doing some reading," he said.

"I'll only be a few minutes. I just want to check my emails," she said. "They can back up quickly when I'm out of the office."

They were making polite conversation? Retaining a superficial politeness? What was going on with her?

"You never have to rush out of my bed," he said, gently probing her for a response. "And your job is full of crap. It's bound to back-up."

"Gee thanks."

No response to the bed comment. How quickly things digress between them!

"Why are you here Cuddy?" He was frustrated; it was time for answers.

She frowned at him. "To check WiFi," she reminded him, as if he were slow.

"That's it?"

She seemed to scrutinize him, searching his expression. Then her eyes slowly dropped to his chest, down his abdomen, pausing at his crotch – which pleased him more than he wanted to admit – before continuing down his legs to his bare feet.

House forced himself to remain still, to keep his ankles crossed and his hands on the journal in his hands. Her eyes made a return trip up his body and locked on his with an unexpected intensity. He stared back in curiosity and confusion. She seemed to be waiting for something.

She turned away suddenly. "Yours isn't working either."

House stared blankly, trying to process.

_The internet. The Wifi wasn't working. _

He watched her shut down the laptop and place it back in the case. He tried to decipher the unspoken message that had passed between them, to understand what she was expecting, what she wanted. There was a reason she'd come into his room, and it wasn't for the internet.

"Sometimes it's not enough to depend on programming," she said. "The automated search may find existing connections, but they don't work."

Cuddy stood and adjusted the robe. He watched in disappointment, feeling a sense of loss at her every move.

"Sometimes you have to work a little harder to get access," she said. "You need to create a direct connect."

House frowned as she left the room. Now that was definitely a message. What the hell?

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

She was taking a bath. He'd heard the water running, heard the rustling noises as she removed items from her suitcase. He'd even heard her slipping into the water. Of course, that was because he was listening at her door.

Now, he was pacing. Ever since she'd left his room with that cryptic comment, he'd been trying to decipher the message. He'd been remembering conversations over the years, going over details, looking for a baseline, a clue to what she trying to tell him.

He was frustrated. He'd wanted them to move forward, to put the games behind them. Instead, he'd increased the complexity of the puzzle. He didn't know what to do.

At one point, he'd had the crazy idea to join her, to push the door open, strip naked and step into the tub with her. But that was crazy. That was the last thing she needed. Not that he had any idea what she needed. Hell, she didn't know what she needed. He'd known that all along. She ran from what she wanted and didn't have any idea what she needed.

Wasn't it high time to find out? Why was it so difficult to stop pretending, to stop hiding?

Who was he kidding? It was hard for him. Why did he think it would be easier for her? He so often saw her as his savior, his guardian angel; he forgot she was screwed up.

He'd told her on that plane she needed to have the courage to go after what she wanted. She'd just told him he had to work harder. Work harder! For what? He still wasn't clear what she was offering.

House pushed open the bathroom door, well aware and somewhat hoping he'd find her naked. She'd already gotten out of the tub and was standing at the sink. She was wrapped in a towel, and staring questioningly at him in the mirror.

He noticed she wasn't surprised. She didn't appear to be upset by his intrusion, either.

"Need something?" She asked. A brow was quirked, and the corner of her mouth was lifted in a knowing grin.

"Toothpaste," he said. "I forgot to bring mine."

She turned to hand him the tube, but as his hand grasped it, she held tight. Her eyes bore into his and he felt the muscles tighten in his stomach. He had come in for answers, but she appeared to be searching him.

House stepped in close to her, his eyes moving from her cleavage back up to her eyes.

"You should remove the towel," he suggested.

She sighed and rolled her eyes, but he saw the disappointment in her face as she turned away. "Good night, House."

He retreated to the main sitting area and plopped down on the sofa.

Why was she disappointed? Because he wanted to see her naked? What was new about that? And who didn't want to see her naked?

Then again, maybe it wasn't about what he wanted, but about what she didn't want. She wasn't interested. These past few weeks she'd been kind to him, supportive, ensuring they maintained a healthy working relationship, but that was it. There wasn't anything more to it. Which meant what had happened on that plane had been a fluke. She'd been pumped with adrenaline, reeling from residual emotions surrounding the mass hysteria, and he'd taken advantage of her.

House dropped his head in shame. That hadn't been his intent. He had just wanted things to change. He still wanted things to change. Not just with her, but with him. It was why he'd faked brain cancer to try and get in that drug trial.

He hadn't meant for anyone to find out about the fake tests. He didn't want to hurt anyone; he just didn't want to hurt anymore. Unfortunately his team had found out. It had started a chain reaction and everyone was working to diagnose and treat. Except for Cuddy.

Wilson had said she'd been upset. She'd even cried. She'd been afraid for his life and yet she'd not stepped in to save him, which was a little strange considering her standard modus operandi. She'd simply waited for him to come to her.

He smiled as he remembered the night he'd done just that. There hadn't been pity, or anger, or even fear between them. They had experienced the same camaraderie they'd maintained for years. Even in the midst of what she believed to be a health scare, they managed to enjoy each other for who they were. She hadn't pushed, demanded, or manipulated. She'd just been there.

He'd come about the patient, but then she'd said she was there if he needed her. He'd taken the opportunity to grope her, to cop a feel of that spectacular ass. She'd been amused. He thought she may have even been holding back laughter. He did laugh every time he remembered her suggestion to call the Make A Wish Foundation.

When the truth came out, everyone had been angry. Even Wilson had been cold. But she hadn't said a word. She'd never even confronted him.

The whole situation was so representative of them. How many times did they mock and tease in the midst of a crisis? How often had he used the safety net of a game to make a bold, inappropriate suggestion? How often did she walk away amused? It was the same pattern over and over.

"Do you mind if I use the lotion from your room?"

House turned to see her standing behind him.

"Go ahead," he said, and craned his head to watch her walk. She had the sexiest legs, and if she bent over slightly, he'd catch a glimpse of those perfect cheeks. He'd have to be dead not to appreciate her body.

House frowned.

"Why do you need more lotion," he asked, standing to follow her.

She had lotion in her room. He'd seen it on the vanity, and he knew she carried a tube in her purse. The lotion was an excuse to see him.

"I don't quite have enough for my legs," she answered simply.

He didn't buy it. Something was going on with her and he just couldn't accept it wasn't in his favor.

"You want me," he stated it with conviction, but he was looking for a tell in her response.

"Always," she quipped. "The lotion is just a poor substitute for you."

Nothing. He got nothing. Dammit. When had she gotten so good at bluffing?

They weren't in a crisis, or even coming out of one. He wasn't taking advantage of her weakness, or using her vulnerability for his benefit. He was teasing her like he always did, testing her reactions and responses. He needed to stop doubting himself. He knew her; she knew him. Something may have shifted in their universe, but some things were constant. He wanted her. He wanted her to want him. He wasn't about to give up on that pursuit.

As she stepped from his room carrying the small bottle of lotion, he blocked her way.

"Did you want something?" She asked.

His eyes pierced hers. He wanted her to make a move, to break down the walls between them. He wanted the same thing he'd wanted weeks ago: access.

"Can I take off that towel?"

The grin was slow in coming, but it was there. And it wasn't the response he wanted.

She was enjoying him. She was having fun with him, when he wanted more than fun and games. How ironic! He was the one voted most likely to never be serious. No one would ever believe he would want a committed relationship.

Her hands reached out to touch his bicep and his entire body coiled tightly.

"Keep trying, House," she chuckled, and pushed him away. As she strolled back to her room, House returned to the couch to sulk.

Cuddy shook her head as she looked at her reflection. Why wasn't he getting this? For a smart man, he was being quite obtuse.

He knew she wanted to be pursued. He'd even told her that in his own way when he'd given her that mock review. "Your eyes tell us - actually your eyes tell us nothing because we're looking at your boobs - which tell us that you're desperate to have someone jump on you and tell you they love you one grunted syllable at a time." He'd told her she ran from what she needed and didn't have a clue what she wanted. He'd been right about her running, but he was wrong about her not knowing what she wanted. She knew perfectly well what she wanted.

She wanted him to take the lead. He'd always had a tendency to take tentative steps toward her, as if he felt unworthy. When they got too close, he would become cautious and afraid, deflecting and raging against all structure and expectations. It was his way of running, his way of hiding.

If he couldn't be bold with her - and mean it – they would never move beyond this elementary school courtship. He seemed to believe she was the one who had the power to make this work, the one with the answers. But she wasn't the bridge over troubled waters he was expecting. She didn't even think that was what he needed.

He said he wanted her to make a way for them, but if he could not be confident in her and in himself, they would never make the journey. It wouldn't matter if the path had been carved. If he wanted access to her heart, he needed to understand their foundation was built on more than sexual attraction, and that he could trust it. She needed him to know what they had didn't require altercation or reinforcement. It had already passed the test.

House contemplated his latest enemy. That towel was more than just an obstruction to a pursuit of passion; it was a symbol of the walls that kept him on the outside looking in.

He was certain Cuddy wanted to be with him. All signs pointed to it. If he'd had any doubts, they were removed when she'd come asking for lotion. He couldn't shake the belief that she expected those doubts would be removed. She knew he saw the lotion, and knew he would recognize her move as a lame excuse to prance by him in that damn towel.

He never thought he'd say this, but he was sick of the games. There was a place for the thrill of the chase, a time for cat and mouse, but they needed more to sustain them. She was his boss. Every day she told people what to do and how to do it, she played the diplomat and commander; she controlled her people and environment. She was accustomed to setting the rules for him. She knew he functioned better when he knew the boundaries and could push them appropriately. Cuddy was one of the few people who understood that. So why wasn't she taking charge now? Why was she acting coy?

He'd asked her to build a bridge, something more sustainable than sex. Maybe he was expecting too much. A relationship with him wouldn't be easy, if it was even possible. A woman would need to…

House tilted his head to the side, creating lists and noting details on the white board of his mind. He felt the beginnings of an epiphany.

A woman would need to understand his pain, accept his desperate attempts to alleviate it, provide support and space as he worked through it. She'd need to see beyond the misanthropic sarcasm and blatant disregard for human emotion and see the romantic side he fought to hide. She'd need to be a friend, a consistent presence who provided a safety net as much as a challenge.

The pieces snapped into place and House grinned.

She was one cunning woman. She'd done it. She'd done it by forcing him to see it.

These past few weeks, in every situation, she'd been showing him there was no need for a bridge. Even these past few hours, she been breaking his illusion, revealing he was asking for something he already had. He'd had access all along. There was nothing at all preventing them from having a relationship. Nothing except him, and his fumbling…and his failed attempts to give her what he knew she desperately wanted.

House entered her room with determination and a sense of purpose. He was an idiot, but he wasn't stupid.

Cuddy felt his eyes on her. She had one leg propped on the side of the tub as she finished rubbing the lotion into her skin. He didn't say anything; he just watched. Her fingers easily slid along her calf and up her thigh and back down again. His eyes consumed her.

She capped the lotion and placed it on the tub before turning to face him, meeting his eyes with hope and assurance.

"Did you need something?" She finally asked.

The room felt smaller with him in it. He was an imposing figure as he stood before her. As his hands gently grasped her wrists and then slid up her arms to her shoulders, she was lost in the moment. His eyes didn't search, but commanded. His hands were gentle, yet firm and steady.

He pushed the hair off her shoulders, running his fingers along the strands down her back before returning to cup her chin. His thumbs caressed her lower lip. She felt a stirring in her stomach, a feeling of elation as her legs began to shake. And then her heart stopped.

His hands dropped to the edge of the towel at her chest where the ends were connected, and he pulled. The towel dropped to the floor, and she stood naked before him.

Her smile was radiant as she looked up at him.

"You should have joined me in the tub," she whispered.

He picked her up and sat her on the edge of the vanity. "I know."

Oh, yeah. He knew. There was no hesitation, no caution, and no fear as he leaned into her.

As his lips touched hers, Cuddy sighed. At last, she thought. It felt like forever since they'd last kissed, since he'd held her, touched her.

House opened her legs wide and stepped between her thighs, pulling her hips forward so she could feel his erection. His eyes were open, looking at her body, watching his hands move over her skin, and catching periphery glimpses of her backside in the mirror. He squeezed her cheeks.

"You have the greatest ass," he murmured in her ear.

She tugged on his shirt, working to pull it over his head so she could feel his skin against her. Her mouth sought his, her tongue diving into his mouth to tangle with his.

There was a directness about Cuddy that was undeniable. As much as she hungered for a man to take her, to possess her, she needed to be an equal participant. Her hands boldly explored the plane of his abdomen, then skimmed back over his chest, shoulders and arms. Her touch was a flame flicking his nerve endings, setting him on fire, making him want her more with each pass of her hand.

Her fingers dropped to the tie of his pants and he drew in a quick breath. He trapped her hand with his, stopping her progress as he gazed down at her.

"You're overdressed." She stated the obvious.

He grinned and brought her hand up to his mouth. He kissed her fingers, then opened her hand and touched the tip of his tongue to her palm. Cuddy held her breath, mesmerized.

"You don't get this until you've had at least two orgasms," he said, leaning in to kiss her neck.

Cuddy felt a shiver run down her spine as his tongue slid over the skin just beneath her ear. The scruff of his beard was a direct contrast to the softness of his lips and tongue. She wanted to moan. When his hands cupped her breasts, lifting and kneading, teasing the tips with his callused fingers, she did moan.

He had a way of bringing out the feral side of her. She arched her back and wrapped her legs around his hips. She held his head as his mouth sucked on the tip of one of her breasts. It was as if her body was jealous of itself, so many parts hungry for equal attention. As he took the opposite nipple into his mouth, his fingers pinched at the one he'd just abandoned. The invisible chord that connected her nipple and the center of her passion seemed to ignite, and she felt the molten heat build at her core.

House was relentless. He lifted her breasts, pushing them together as he ran his tongue back and forth from one to the other with a shake of his head. Cuddy gripped the edge of the vanity as she began to writhe beneath him.

One of his hands cupped her mound and she gasped for air. He took advantage of her open mouth, kissing her, devouring her as his fingers slipped beneath her folds into slick, molten heat.

He growled. Cuddy felt empowered by his response, and wild beneath his touch. When his finger slipped into her center, she tensed, her muscles contracting in controlled movements.

House looked at her with a cocky grin, holding her steady with one hand as he slipped a second finger into her. Her head fell back as he pumped and then scissored, building the tension in her body with deliberate ease. He moved his thumb along her clit and she came up off the vanity as chaos took over her mind and senses. Her world was twisting and twirling, swirling in vibrant colors and bursts of light until it exploded into her blood stream, leaving her muscles convulsing and quivering.

Cuddy collapsed against him and his arms held her as she took deep, calming breaths.

He didn't wait for her breathing to return to normal, or her heart to stop racing. He lifted her, his hands cupping her butt cheeks, and she tightened her legs and arms around him as he took the few steps to the bed. She worried about his leg for only a moment before he dropped her to the mattress.

And then he dropped his pants.

Cuddy stared at his jutting cock, wanting to touch him, to taste him. He took one of her wrist in his hand and rolled her over as he crawled into bed beside her. His body spooned her and she felt him gently open her cheeks so his cock could slide between them. He didn't push or thrust. He simply held her against him as his hands began to explore her again.

The feel of his erection against her, so close to her core, so intimately against her drove her crazy. She found herself pressing up against him, sliding back and forth in rhythmic movements.

His fingers found her clit, sliding over the tip, then circling around, before pinching and tugging with steady pressure. Cuddy grabbed her breasts, caressing her nipples, seeking to release the tension that was building again.

"Uh, uh," House said, pulling her hands away from her breasts and rolling her over.

He pinned her hands to her side beside her hips and began sucking on her nipples one after the other, drawing them deep into his mouth. He nipped and bit, and when she arched her back and thrust toward him, he slid his mouth down her stomach.

Cuddy wanted to move her hands, to run her fingers through his hair, to push his head lower, but he held them tight. He spent a too much time teasing and tormenting her, licking at her navel and running his chin along her mound. Until he pried his shoulders between her thighs, stretching her open before him.

His tongue lapped at her, exploring every nerve along her folds and around her hardened nub. Her head was spinning and she wanted to cry out in frustration. Her release was immanent, but House kept pulling back ever so slightly, changing his focus and pattern to extend her pleasured pain.

"God," she cried in frustration and delight.

House responded by thrusting his tongue deep within her, tasting the juices that were now flowing freely and humming his own pleasure. She jerked forward. He moved up and sucked her clit hard into his mouth, relentlessly pulling as his tongue tapped on this tip. Cuddy burst into flames, a kaleidoscope released in what once was a functional mind.

She felt his body slide against hers, every nerve alert and sensitized as he pulled himself on top of her.

"Look at me," he said.

Her eyes met his and she almost hyperventilated at the depth of feeling swirling in the blue orbs.

House positioned his cock at her entrance and sank into her.

"Good God," he said between clenched teeth.

Cuddy felt every ridge and fold as he entered her inch by glorious inch. The sensation of being utterly filled yet desperately hungry took her over and she gripped his shoulders, scratching him in her quest for complete satisfaction.

House rocked into her, his arms straining, his muscles standing out in relief. He surged inward and Cuddy felt the fullness of him, the extent of his size and power. She threw her head back and moaned.

"Love," he grunted.

Her eyes widened, he body sang. Her heart pumped at speeds she'd never experienced. She found herself drowning in his eyes, hanging on the thread of mass sensation and supreme ecstasy.

"I...love…you," he spoke one syllable at a time as he pounded into her. Tears welled in her eyes. He gasped for air just before a long groan escaped his throat.

House grew rigid above her, driving deep and hard as he rode out his climax. Cuddy pulled at her nipples and matched his rhythmic drive over the top until she fell over the cliff behind him.

[H] [H] [H] [H] [H]

Cuddy was sore. It was a good feeling. It was the total awareness of your body, when every touch, smell, even sound was enhanced. It was the feeling of being well loved and satiated. It was a feeling she enjoyed while spooned by her lover, a lover who'd returned time and time again during the night to pleasure and be pleasured.

As House continued to run his fingers along her arms and waist, occasionally touching her hips as he lightly caressed her. Cuddy stretched beside him, turning slightly to tangle her legs with his as she snuggled closer to him.

"So, we're a couple?" He asked.

"I hope so," she answered. "I'd like to do this more often. And for a long time."

House brushed his lips against her forehead and ran his jaw along her temple.

"I'm good with that," he said.

Cuddy chuckled, and House grinned.

"I've decided there's something to be said for a handicap advantage."


End file.
